Van2man

I love these 2 devious and horny roommates....and they have the right approach - let the thought bloom in one's mind before allowing it to bloom in one's body.

**This is a work of fantasy and fiction. Any similarity to anyone living or dead is purely coincidental. Certain assumptions in this story about any person are simply fantasy and fiction. Nothing in this work should be construed as medical advice in any way** --PART 2-- “Hey, Wolfgang,” Mikey says as he saunters out of the shower, naked, with his fat cock dangling down. “Or should I say ‘William’”? Wolfgang whips around from washing dishes and turns to see Mikey holding his PrEP bottle. A look of horror crosses over his face. “Seems like you’re shooting blanks, there, Willie,” Mikey closes in on the stunned man, reaches him and grabs his cock in his hand. “Yeah, you threw a good fuck into us both with this fat hog, and I appreciate that,” he starts, “but you’re not even POZ and what’s worse is you’re on fucking PrEP to stay negative!” “You misrepresented yourself,” I tell William/Wolfgang. “Don’t sugarcoat it for him, Chris,” Mikey says to me “he fuckin’ lied about being POZ/toxic, about being able to poz us. “But I like you, William,’ Mikey continues, stating his real name with a measured but clear amount of contempt. ‘I think you can help us out, here, Wiilliam. You not being POZ seems like something the guys at Nachladen might want to know about, huh William?” William looked beseechingly at us and said “Please, don’t say anything to them, boys…Yeah, I lied…I’m a chaser just like you and I want to stop taking those pills – I got scared a couple of months back and I went back on PrEP, but I was overthinking it and I know I want to stop and poz up. He takes the pill bottle from Mikey and empties them out into the trash, pouring water over them to dissolve them. “That’s the last of them.” “I reside in Berlin 2 weeks every month. All my tats, and what we did earlier is my fantasy of how I hope one day soon to poz up young guys looking for HIV. I’m not AIDS-wasted, I’ve just always been this skinny and vascular. I’m sorry, guys, what can I do to make it right?” “You can get us into, or tell us how to get into Nachladen, “Wolfgang,” and we won’t say a word about it to anyone. Unless you want Carsten to know….” God, how I loved Mikey, he had some balls, I thought to myself, wishing they were full of hot deathjizz. “No, please never tell Carsten…anything but that,” he pleaded. “There’s one more thing you can do for us, William,” Mikey continued “you can get your ass back in the bedroom and take our cocks.” With that, Wolfgang/William puts himself face-down on the mattress and Mikey, lubing up his fat hog with Energie-Lube, heads straight for William’s hole, his engorged cock pushing through any resistance and he plants himself balls-deep up the imposter’s ass for a brutal fucking that I know only Mikey can deliver. Seeing my boyfriend pound out William like this, and imagining it was a hot poz cock about to spew HIV, got me horned up again and I motioned for Mikey to flip the guy over so we can double-fuck his hole. Mikey and I kind of specialize in double-fucking a manhole, as we can perfectly alternate our strokes and our cocks just go together, except of course for the missing element of being POZ. Soon we have our rhythm going and it just feels too fucking good and each of us blow another load into the William’s fuckchute. As Mikey is pounding out the last few drops of sadly-negative seed, he adds another condition to the bargain: “And we want two free cases of Energie-Lube sent to our home. That, and you get us into Nachladen and we’re all good, ‘Wolfgang’” Wolfgang/William is bronco-busting on our still-hard dicks up his cunt and his 10-inch geyser spurts a huge load of cum into the air. The dude writhes off us and we all collapse in a sweaty, cummy heap. “I like you, Wolfgang, you throw a mean fuck,” Mikey tells him, “but don’t go back on our deal…or else Carsten will find out you’re shooting blanks.” And with that direct threat to William/Wolfgang, Mikey had our plan to get into Nachladen…William was both a (supposedly tox-poz) member and a vendor for the party. As we talked, he told us how he falsifies his lab work with AI so he can get into Nachladen’s front door and past Carsten. But when he delivers his supplies, he enters in the back of the club with a passcode at the locked back door – that was our ticket in. --1 WEEK LATER-- The night of the party, we’re in the back of a taxi headed to Nachladen. When we tell the driver where we’re going, he just smiles and says “Yes, I’ve heard of it. He hands us a card with his number on it; Klaus. “I’ve been trying to qualify for membership at Nachladen for some time now. Maybe sometime you boys can help a chaser out?” AT THE BLUE DOOR Saying to Klaus we wanted to walk the rest of the way, he dropped us off about 1km away, so under the cloudy night sky, we scampered over the fence and through the field toward the back of the building. A single dim floodlight did little to illuminate the door, but Wolfgang’s directions were good and soon enough we were at the door, Mikey holding the slip of paper with the passcode, his shaky finger nervously poised to enter the combination. “Is this real, Chris, can this be the night we join the HIV brotherhood?” He is trembling a bit with anticipation. In the dim light, he struggled to read the paper and press the darkened number keys on the entry lock. “6, 2, 9, 0, 7,” he recited as he pressed each key. Nothing happened except for a short buzzing noise. That wasn’t it. Scanning the paper against the dimness, he corrected himself “6,2, 9, 6, 7,” that’s it.” Still nothing but the buzz. “Give it to me, Mikey, you know your eyes are bad without your glasses,” I said snatching the paper. “I’m surprised you don’t have this memorized.” “Here we go,” I said, “this will be it: “6,2,8,6,7,” I recited. BINGO. The keypad flashed green and beeped affirmatively three times. A lock inside the door opened with a click. I pulled the handle and the louder techno music flooded out and we both recoiled back a bit at the aural intrusion. “C’mon, Mikey,” I urged to him, “let’s go,” and we stepped inside the dark hallway beyond the door. Red exit lighting was about all the light we had, as we left our phones at the hotel. Phones weren’t allowed and as Clay told us, if Carsten or any of his fearsome guards spotted a phone, you’d get thrown out and blackballed from future parties. The hallway was shrouded in heavy black curtains on both sides and according to Wolfgang’s instructions, we had to walk about 100 feet to the back of the stage, where sometimes live sex shows would take place. It was straight down this hall 100 feet, then another door on the left and we could slip into the main hall from behind the stage where we’d be subsumed by the throng of naked AIDS fuckers. We hurried down the hallway and approached the door, ready to go into the hall, and stripping off our clothes along the way, throwing them in a pile behind the curtain. But suddenly, from another door emerged seven or eight naked men, all with biotats and all with leather bio-haz harnesses and fat metal rings around engorged cocks, most of them with thick PAs glistening in the bare light. They’re followed by another hot naked guy holding a video camera. “C’mon guys, lets get this show started!” one of them called out and they opened the door and proceeded through to the stage area. Apparently, a live fuck show was about to begin – the music got turned way down as a voice from above introduced the hot fuckers. Too afraid to pay attention to the announcement, Mikey and I ducked behind a curtain as they passed, and pretty soon we heard shouts and whooping from the main hall. As we crept to the door to open it a crack, we saw the filthy AIDS-fuckers already pawing at each other, fucking and sucking and eating hole in a variety of positions while images from the guy’s video camera were projected on the split-screens above them gave the assembled throng a birds-eye view of what was happening. We figured now was the time, as the performers were distracted by the swirling mass of poz-toxic bodies as they formed and reformed in new configurations. As we stepped through, determined to stay to the left to avoid being noticed, a veiny arm grabbed me and threw me into the scrum of writhing sex gods assembled on the fuckfloor. Someone else grabbed Mikey and soon our mouths were roughly pulled opened to accommodate fat, pierced toxic cocks and we could both feel tongues and fingers on our neg holes. “These boys want to join the show, brothers, and they look like new meat to me!” one of them shouted to his mates over the din. Breaking free for a second of the hard, already precumming cock in my mouth, I looked up at the guy and to my amazement, it was poz porn god Tony Bishop, and with a devilish grin, he was now flipping me around, pointing my ass at his fat toxic tattooed cock. “Let’s recharge these boys, brothers,” and with that Tony dove his poz weapon deep up my pussy, never once stopping to let me acclimate or get reasonably comfortable to take his pozfuck. But fuck that, I was being pozfucked by none other than Tony Bishop! I soon relaxed and accepted the hard, deep pounding Tony was throwing down on my mancunt and my mind was swirling to think I might receive the beautiful gift of prime porn-star POZ viral, unmedicated seed. I looked over for my boyfriend Mikey and he’s getting similarly pounded out by a super tall, bald, visibly wasted guy with what looks like 10 inches of positivity thrusting in and out of Mikey’s neg cunt. I began to realize that Mikey is getting poz pipe from the infamous doorman Carsten! The other guys in the swirling mass start switching off and Tony dismounts off me, only for my ass to be replaced by the rest of the AIDS-poles in rapid succession…now they’ve got Mikey and me on a rotation, with one diseased fucker going after the other on our holes, and I’m desperately hoping they’ll bring us into the brotherhood. Soon enough, the videographer joins in the fun, mounting me from behind with a thick poz cock and at the same time projecting the image onto the screens above. Soon, it’s Carsten’s turn in my ass and Clay was right, the man does not disappoint, for he is pile-driving deep into my cunt as the images are flashed on the screen above us. Tony, meanwhile has his tatted bio-weapon deep up my BFF Mikey. I struggle to see their actions on the split-screen but soon I see from behind as Tony’s heavy AIDS-filled balls tighten up and the pounding gets slower and deeper into Mikey’s cunt. Finally, he pulses what appears to be 10 shots of HIV into my best friend and soulmate, loudly grunting while he’s inseminating. The men in the sex scrum shouting “Recharge him!” and some other stuff in a mix of English/German/Spanish and some other languages I can’t quite get. At last Tony withdraws his poz pistol from Mikey’s gaping pussy, little dribbles of the gift coating the perfect O Mikey’s hole makes whenever he’s been fucked good and hard. Carsten moves on from my hole and re-plants himself inside Mikey, pausing only to lap up some of Tony’s venom from the hole. Tony, being the famous poz predator he is, wastes no time and goes back up inside me, grunting and hollering with all the men while Carsten unloads his poison into Mikey, the crowd watching erupts in applause and men all over the main hall resume their bacchanal of HIV fucking and seeding, shouting “Recharge” in their various languages whenever one erupts inside their brother’s hole. And while Tony continues drilling his toxic cock deep inside my hole, my mouth gets a rotation of fat HIV-laden cocks one after the other roughly face-fucking me. Tony is bucking and thrashing on top of me, pinning me down against the sweaty and cummy rubber of the black floormat, and with a growl, unleashes another unmedicated load, which feels like 12 or so shots of infectious HIV deep in my guts. He whispers in my ear “Get used to it, kid, we’ve only just started violating your hole.” The mass of men re-forms and without allowing us any recovery time, proceed to fuck and breed Mikey and me further. These fuckers’ cocks never go down and always shoot copious loads of the beautiful, bonding viral gift of pure HIV seed just needing a receptive vessel to bloom and proliferate. The videographer re-mounts my ass and drives his diseased load deep into me, all the while displaying the images up on the screen. He pulls his enormous cock out of me and my hole is truly gaped now with a steady drizzle of infected seed oozing out. But it’s soon filled by another of the sex show guys and every drop is driven back inside me. Maybe there is something to Wolfgang’s claims about Energie-lube, I think to myself as I’m passed yet again between hard-driving poz tops and fucked and bred again and again. Between Mikey and me, these 8 studs have bred us a cumulative 20+ times. The show reaches it’s end and the screens flash away from the stage and begin again with poz porn from all over the world. Mikey and I are truly wiped out but ecstatic at what has happened. We stagger over to the small bar area for some water, and we run right into Wolfgang/William. “Hey, didn’t I tell you this place was incredible!” he says hugging us both and reaching around to our holes to bring some residual seed to his lips. ‘I didn’t know there’d be a sex show tonight, boys, but damn was that hot watching Tony Bishop make you his sons. And then that angry fucker Carsten and all the other guys. I bet you guys have both just been pozzed!” “I didn’t think we’d get as many loads as we have so far,” I marveled to Wolfgang/William. “Oh yeah, these guys can almost *smell* new meat at this club,“ William added “Of course, they think you’re both POZ and detectable, so be sure to play along and shout ‘Recharge” whenever you breed a hole here.” With that, Wolfgang/William rejoins the dancing/fucking/sucking throng, immediately getting bent over and pozfucked at by various dudes. The video guy approaches us and says we can get a copy of what he recorded if we want as he hands us his card: His name is Todd and we cannot wait to replay this incredible sex show for Clay and Uncle Randy back home. Mikey and I, now with some water and a quick convo with Todd to exchange contact info, head out onto the main floor and we make plans to meet back at the bar in 2 hours, but in the meantime, get as many more poz-tox loads as possible. My head is reeling with the possibility that this was the day of our pozzing and we made it happen here at the infamous Nachladen party. I love Mikey more than ever for being the devious twinky little fucker that he is and conniving a way to get us in here. Way more than 2 hours go by in a total blur as men, of all ages, body types and stages of HIV infection use my hole to impregnate me with deathseed. As I’m getting invaded from behind, guys are just backing up onto my rockhard member at will, in a frenzy of sex and fucking and continuous breeding. At one point, I’m in the middle of a fuck-train of about 10 guys, which keeps reforming as someone drops a load. Then, as the time to meet Mikey fast-approaches, the crowd parts and there he is again: POZ god Tony Bishop, who comes up to me as I am straddled across a fuckbench. Saying nothing, he mounts up inside my blown-out mancunt and drops another venomous batch of his AIDS-brew straight from his balls and through his tattooed cock into my hole. “How’d you get past Carsten?” he whispers in my ear, depositing the last of his toxic jizz in my cunt and revealing that he knows somehow I’m not yet POZ. “No worries, you’ll definitely be eligible once we’re all done with you.” “Recharge!” he shouts again to the assembled onlookers, who, as Tony moves away, jockey to begin yet another assault on my hole. I’m fucked and seeded about 30 more times, but honestly, at this point, it could be 100 more times for all I know, I’m barely aware anymore, but just know I’m being pozzed tonight and I’m gonna think always of my new pozfather Tony. I know it could have been a strain from any of these sick fuckers, but Tony was the first load I took tonight at Nachladen, so he’ll be the one in my book to have brought me and Mikey straight into the beautiful POZ brotherhood! It's past 7:00am when we stumble out of the club, after finding our clothes again and there’s a line of taxis outside in the bright sun. We see Klaus’s taxi and wave to him. He takes us back to our hotel and we make plans to meet up next time we’re in Berlin. 1 MONTH LATER – WEST HOLLYWOOD I’m relaying the events of Nachladen to my poz inspiration, the great Randy, a founding member of “The Ten,” and uncle and pozzer of his nephew Clay, our good buddy, who is off getting a new tattoo. I’m playing clips from the video Todd sent us on my phone for Uncle Randy to watch. We also made plans to go to the next Nachladen, but before we do, we’ll visit taxi driver Klaus and help a brother out. “I’m proud of you and Mikey, son,” Uncle Randy tells me. “What an evening! Here, let me look at your home test again,” he asks me, right in the same WeHo coffee shop where he in his day pozzed the whole staff. He holds the test up to the light and smiles broadly as he sees the 2 red lines, bright as day. Just then, Mikey arrives and shows us his paperwork from Dr. Matthew’s office: He’s high VL, or as the doctor’s hot gifter nurse Keith put it “toxic as fuck”—which he and Keith then did, right on the examination table. Uncle Randy displays the two home tests and the paper as well for the coffee shop customers, who all break out in applause. Guys start coming up to us with congratulations and to air-drop their contact info. Clearly, we’re gonna be busy pozzing up and/or recharging scores of dudes. Achievement unlocked! We exit, horned up beyond belief and needing relief. At this moment Clay walks up to us, fresh from the tattoo parlor and pulls up his T-shirt to reveal his first dark X branded across his torso. He deeply kisses his pozfather Uncle Randy, and says to us all: “Let’s go pozfuck.” THE END

**This is a work of fantasy and fiction. Any similarity to anyone living or dead is purely coincidental. Nothing in this work should be construed as medical advice in any way** ***Also - forgive my rusty German*** “C’mon, Mikey,” it’s through here,” I called back to him urgently. “This is the door that Wolfgang told us about” Mike and I crept silently towards the blue door that said “Nur für Mitarbeiter.” In my limited German, I knew that meant “EMPLOYEES ONLY”. Yes, this is where Wolfgang told us to go. We crept silently, even though no one could possibly hear us over the din of the techno music-- it’s hypnotic beat pulsating and throbbing in our ears. Even while still outside, we could hear it clearly – on every fourth beat, a voice dubbed over the music added a rotation of single word: “TOXIC” “POZ” “AIDS” “VIRUS.” Yeah, this was the place and soon, just beyond that blue door, my best friend Mikey and I would get access into one of the most exclusive parties in the world: The infamous “Nachladen” party, exclusively only for POZ-detectable men, totally invitation only and only after applicants submit a copy of lab work showing a detectable viral load within 2 weeks of the date of the party. Lab work papers or .pdfs are checked again at the door by a fearsome looking punk bouncer, Carsten, who, at almost 7 feet tall and in his custom biohazard-shaped harness, biotats all over his lean body, and almost always wearing nothing at all, presented a formidable obstacle to access the converted warehouse on the outskirts of Berlin, by a small river, across the field and over a 6ft chain-link fence that Mikey and I scaled just before reaching the blue door. And even if your paperwork showed the required viral load qualifications, if Carsten didn’t like your look, or somehow thought you were faking being toxic to get in, he’d throw you out before you even get in the door. Nobody argued with Carsten. As these prerequisites were explained to me back home by my friend Clay who is a veteran of the Nachladen parties. Certainly, Mikey and I, both of us still neg after almost a year of chasing HIV, weren’t going to get in. But we were going to, in Berlin, stopping there on a train trip of Europe, and we beseeched Clay to try to get us in. “Sorry, Chris, chasers like you two aren’t welcome at the Recharge Party (using the rough English translation for “Nachladen.)” You gotta convert to HIV POZ first, and then you need proof of toxicity, like recent lab results to show them from your phone. Carsten will never let you in. He is one mean muthafucker, especially when he’s pounding a load from his poisoned cock into you.” Mike and I were dejected by this, of course, especially since in the last few years, more and more guys have openly and unashamedly chased the upgrade to POZ status - any gay street fair you go, or even this WeHo coffee shop we’re sitting in, is chock-a-block with guys festooned with biotats: Radiocative Symbols, Scorpions, Biohazard signs, or just the words “positive” or “HIV Inside.,” Our statuses have both stubbornly remained “negative,” despite Clay’s repeated breedings of us both. Clay, of course, was famously pozzed by his uncle Randy and a few of Randy’s high-viral fuck buddies at an infamous Tahoe conversion party, where 14 chasers got into the poz brotherhood in a single weekend. But Clay’s best efforts at converting me and Mikey had still not resulted in the desired outcome…Time after time, our home tests came up with just 1 line – negative…we had both been off PrEP for about a year, so why the conversion wasn’t happening was a mystery to us as we had been steadily taking loads from Clay, exclusively so he could claim us as his first converts and get on the road to the X tatted on his body, signifying 10 successful pozzings. Clay took his meds for awhile, but missed out on all the pozzing fun his buddies got to have, so he’s been med free for over a year now. Despite that, Clay had been frustrated by his apparent inability to poz us, and resolved to go to Berlin to the infamous Nachladen party to pick up a few more strains, or maybe the elusive HIV1/HIV2 combo, or even the rarer, legendary Cuban strain. A few months back, he took his first trip to Berlin, and since then, he’s been going every month for their famous bacchanal of HIV…guys celebrating the brotherhood of HIV/AIDS surrounded by their own kind…You can poz all the chasers you want outside Nachladen, but you can’t bring them in to the party. One day, he emailed over the secret link to the party and Mikey and I devoured the page: NACHLADEN: The ONLY POZ-TOXIC party in Berlin. You must be certified not just HIV POZ, but also TOXIC : WE CHECK YOUR VIRAL LOAD. We require .pdf or paper copies of your recent lab results, to even be eligible to attend. Once certified as toxic, you will be added to our distribution list and our event coordinator Carsten will be reaching out to each of you personally for more details. If you’re non-positive, you are not allowed to attend. This party is only for proven, high-viral TOXIC men to recharge each other, without the pressure of trying to poz up chasers. You can reach out to our members individually to poz up, but until then you can’t attend NACHLADEN. The website went on to offer member info for those who were available to pozzing up chasers. A small thumbnail pic and a unique Member ID linked to an anonymized email address for each toxic breeder. It also suggested neg guys looking for upgrades to POZ check out the “BREED” party at Noxon Club in Las Palmas or reach out to one of “The Ten,” tox guys who tattoo an X for every 10 neg holes they poz up. There, a link took the user to The Ten’s subscription newsletter, run by Clay’s Uncle Randy, a veteran pozzer with over 150 men proudly converted to HIV by him, as evidenced by the 15 dark Xs branded across his mid-section. How many more no-questions-asked guys he pozzed in bathhouses and sex parties will never truly be known. He retired from the pozzing game, started meds and settled down with his husband Tom, but he kept the dream alive for guys through his page. “But we’ve been through “The Ten” already,” Mikey protested, as I silently nodded in agreement, and since we’re already going to Berlin, I want to the chance to poz up for real at the mecca for toxic HIV/AIDS fuckers!” Mikey loves challenges, and he was determined to get into Nachladen come hell or highwater, wanting the chance to upgrade courtesy of some prime HIV high-viral toxic dudes. “The party in Las Palmas has too many chasers and not enough truly tox guys. I hear Nachladen has guys in all stages of HIV infection. That’s what I want!” “It’s very German,” Mikey said to me one evening, scanning the webpage and holding my neg cock with his other hand, while my hand reached down his shorts and started playing with his sweet neg hole. Viewing this webpage for the infamous Nachladen party got us both hard and ready to fuck. “We just need an ‘in,’” he said, casually stripping off his 5” inseam shorts and freeing his thick 8-inch cock from them. “Someone who works there, or one of their suppliers, maybe,” he added, lubing up his fat neg cock and bending me over, mounting me and thrusting it into my hole in one motion. I took Mikey’s fuck like the joyous experience it always is. Mikey and I are total best friends united in the goal of going poz, and then hopefully getting X’d up good for every 10 successful gifted infections, and, yeah, we love each other as well and expect to spend our lives together as POZ partners, fulfilling our destiny to charge up as many as we could along the way. As he’s fucking me, his fat cock slamming into me, he has an idea (he does his best thinking with his cock in a hole, or vice-versa.) “Their main sponsor is Energie Lube,” he says breathlessly as his balls tighten and begin spraying my insides with his cum. Shuddering a few times as he deposits the last few drops in me, he says “Let’s find out some info on them.” We quickly switch positions…Mikey’s hard cock and breeding of my hole has got me ready to blow as well. With only some spit on my cock, I flip him around and send it straight up his 21-year old neg hole and only after a few deep strokes, I send my load into him, slamming my cock deeper to get out the last drops of seed. “If only these were poz loads,” I bemoan, but my partner Mikey is already plotting his moves to crash the Nachladen party. A couple days later, he meets me in the coffee shop on Sunset Blvd – the one where Uncle Randy pozzed all the baristas one summer. “I’ve got it,” Chris,’ he announces, sitting down with is cold brew. Energie Lube is a German company and I reached out to their visual marketing editor…I found him on BZ and I’ve already made plans to hook up with him once we get to Berlin. He’s a hot AIDS fucker named Wolfgang. Once I get to take his fuck, I’ll turn on the old charm and he’ll be the key to us getting into the Recharge Party. And, at least according to his BZ profile, he’s majorly toxic right now. “How are you going to get him to help us,?” I asked. Mikey, leaned back in his chair and spread his legs. His fat pierced cock flopped out of the leg of his gymshorts, making no effort to hide it from view. Not that anyone cared – this was West Hollywood, after all. He just laughed and pointed to his expanding cock. “And if that doesn’t do it, he can always drop a load of HIV in my neg hole. Then, I’ll ask him to get us in.” “You and your schemes,” I said, reaching over to give him a deep kiss. “That monster in your shorts is getting me horned up. Let’s go home and fuck” --2 WEEKS LATER— We arrive at Wolfgang’s apartment on the perimeter of the old Friedrichshain neighborhood of what used to be East Berlin. Mikey is in his shortest shorts and a barely there tank top, while I’m in some leather gear I picked up at the leather shop in L.A. run by Randy’s fuckbud Ron (another of Randy’s many poz progeny). Wolfgang buzzes us up and soon we’re on the 4th floor and he opens the door. I immediately peg him as a veteran of many years poz status…his lean body showing some appararent wasting signs but still musculature ripples along his torso which is bedecked with poz tats. A fat, pierced uncut cock surrounded by a thick metal cock ring and 2 or 3 metal ball weights completes the look. Wolfgang apparently doesn’t speak a whole lot of English and as we are wordlessly led to the bedroom, he motions for us to strip out of our clothes. In his bedroom, well, there was no bed, just a black rubber-clad mattress on the floor and a couple of slings along the wall, he held up a toothbrush and motioned for us each to get into a sling. By this point, no words still had been spoken, in any language. Wolfgang stroked his long toxic weapon and played with his nipple rings while Mikey and I each scampered into the slings. “Which one first?” he finally uttered, in heavily-accented English, and before we had a chance to answer he approached Mikey and stuck the brush up Mikey’s waiting neg hole. Mikey and I have both been brushed like this before many times by Clay and other hot poz guys hoping their deathseed blooms inside us, so my bestie Mikey took the brush in stride, writhing with pleasure as it scraped his asswalls and prepared itself for a toxic flooding from Wolfgang’s hard cock. He has Energie-lubed his German sausage up and without a further word, drives it deep up my boyfriend’s pussy. Mikey throws his head back in pleasure with maybe a little pain as well but he soon acclimates to the fuck and Wolfgang is now pounding his AIDS-pole deep into Mikey’s guts. It was then I noticed the toothbrush hadn’t been removed…Wolfgang was fucking and brushing Mikey’s mancunt at the same time. Mikey was reeling in pleasure at this anal invasion of cock and brush, and Wolfgang reared back and uttered a long string of words in guttural German, and exploded into Mikey’s cunt with what looked like 8 or 9 pulsations of infected seed. Finally pulling his dripping hog out of Mikey’s blown-out and brushed manhole, Wolfgang confidently strode over to me in my sling and without a word or a touch of his hand on my helicoptering cock, he plunged his unmedicated dick deep into my guts. In his hand was the toothbrush, the same one used on Mikey and that went up my cunt as well, Wolfgang doing his best to bring us both into the POZ brotherhood right then and there. Despite breeding my bud Mikey 5 minutes ago, his cock showed no signs of abating and now he’s slamming it into me, the sling swinging back on every downthrust in my brushed pussy. The wasted German man could at last hold out no more, and with another string of utterances and a low grunt, he pulsed 9 shots of his AIDS-cum into my hole. My cock, swirling back and forth and around and around, explodes with 7 shots of my neg cum shooting straight up into the air…Wolfgang getting splashed on his cheek with most of it – his tongue curling out of his mouth to collect the salty prize. Exhausted, Mikey and I both lay there for a few minutes before Wolfgang helps us down and we move over to the mattress on the floor. His demeaner has changed now and at last he speaks, in accented English. “You boys like that? Give me a few minutes and I’ll be able to go again” So 15 minutes later, we repeat the process, with Wolfgang loading each of us up again with more deadly HIV, and we are well and truly wiped out by now. He brings us some water and we get to talking. He actually speaks English better than we thought at first. He founded the Energie Lube company there in Berlin a few years ago and supplies most of the German sex clubs, including the infamous Berghain and of course, the recharge fest for toxic dudes that is Nachladen. Energie-Lube has a proprietary formula, he claims, that helps cocks stay hard longer and rebound quicker. The subject turns to Nachladen: “I’ve been poz for over 10 years,” and even though we love infecting chasers like you two boys, the party just lets us hang with out brothers without the pressure or competition to impregnate.” “How toxic are you?” I ask, thinking of the two massive loads of his poison seed up my butt at the moment. “Oh, very toxic. I don’t know how you measure it, but yeah, I’m totally able to poz you guys up…maybe this was the day!” After a long conversation and then he even poured us some wine and fixed us some food, we excused ourselves to shower off. Mikey, looking for some shampoo, but also being a nosy little twink, opens Wolfgang’s bathroom cabinet and recoils at what he sees, grabbing a pill bottle to show me. “It’s fucking PrEP!” he exclaims, showing me the bottle, written in English from a pharmacy, not in Germany, but in…Connecticut. The label clearly states “pre-exposure prophylaxis regimen.” “And Wolfgang isn’t Wolfgang…he’s William and he’s from fucking Connecticut!,” Mikey tells me, shaking the pill bottle at me “Do you know what this means?” “He lied about being toxic…Hell, he’s not even POZ!” we both shout. “This is fantastic” Mikey says, to my bewilderment. “Just the knowledge we need to get into that club.” --END OF PART 1--

Hi Guys: Thanks for all your kind words over the years about my story "The Ten." Here is my final chapter...and although this story is coming to a close, I will be back with more exploits of different guys, different situations, in the future. Thanks again! **This is a work of fantasy and fiction. Any similarity to anyone living or dead is purely coincidental. Nothing in this work should be construed as medical advice in any way** FINALE: INSIDE THE BLUE TENT Once the bedroom set had been delivered, I made good use of it getting more guys into the brotherhood. Josh from Alaska, newly pozzed and highly toxic with my potent strain, recommended me to a few of his buddies who wanted the bug from the original source and I gladly complied, bringing a total of 9 other Alaska dudes into the poz world, my HIV strain working their bodies over and, most crucially, imposing the need to seed onto their minds. A few months later, when Josh texted me a link to a story in an Anchorage paper about an unexplained rise in Alaska HIV infections, I just smiled and took quiet pride in helping my newly poz brothers, and making plans with Eric for a 7th X tattoo. As for Furniture Guy Tom and I had met a few times at his studio and I even brought a couple of co-workers to buy some custom pieces from him. We also met for coffee and long walks a few times. One such time, he got very emotional and finally revealed the reason that, despite the instant and obvious attraction, he pulled away from me that evening at his workshop. “I was on PrEP pills for awhile, but I had a bad reaction to it. The doctor switched me to the once-a-month injection but still I had bad side effects…my body just couldn’t take it. So, when I saw all your….body art…” he said, trailing off. “So you know what it all means, then? My tats and the Xs? Did they freak you out a bit?” “Yeah, I think I know…a couple of my buddies chased it and caught it, and if that’s what they wanted, good for them, I guess. And a couple more guys I know weren’t really looking for it, but just lax in taking PrEP and eventually they turned up poz.” “So, you’re neg and not on PrEP and you don’t want to be poz, right,” I asked him, taking hold of his hand which trembled a bit in mine. I brushed a wisp of his hair back behind his ear. “I like you, Tom,” I continued “A lot. I haven’t felt a real connection like that with anyone in a very long time. And although I love my life and I have no regrets or qualms about my sex life and what the impact of it is, I knew I always would want to try a relationship again.” “Randy, I feel the same way about you…and I want us to be together. But, I’m sorry, I don’t want to be poz, and I know you don’t or won’t ever use condoms.” “No, that’s true, I won’t ever have a condom on me, or in me. Never. Men are meant to spread their seed.” “How many have you…how did you say it last week…’brought into the brotherhood?,’” he asked me, looking up from his empty coffee cup. “You know what these X’s represent,” I asked him. As he shook his head “no,” I filled him in on their meaning. “I’m part of an informal club called “The Ten.” It started with a dare, really, to poz up 10 willing chasers and then we’d get an X tattooed across our abs. I have 6 Xs now, Tom, and when I go to San Francisco next week, I’m getting my 7th tattooed. I’m pozfather to over 70 guys that I know about, and those 70 guys have spread it to countless others. And I’m not even nearly the most prolific member of the Club. We’re all super multiple cummers with huge loads, and spreading HIV is such a thrill, our cocks never go down until we’ve shot multiple toxic loads -- my buddies Eric and Keith and Sir Mack are well over 100 known pozzings…and hundreds more unknown ones.” “Wow, I had no fucking idea this was even a thing!” he exclaimed. I knew some guys chased it but not that there was an organized effort like that!. That’s amazing, Randy, but I gotta say, I honestly don’t know how I feel about that.” “That’s fair, Tom,” I told him, “it’s not for everybody, but it is growing in popularity and interest. We’ve even got a stall at the Folsom St Fair next week, and we’re setting up a space in a big tent, kind of an after-party for anyone we meet at the Fair who wants an upgrade. It’s gonna be so fucking hot.” Just thinking of the future mass pozzings we’re gonna spread makes my cock strain in my jeans and Tom reaches down under the table to touch it which sends it to even a harder, more engorged state. “I think I understand, Randy,” he said quietly, “but I don’t want to be poz…” he trailed off and looked up at me and then I knew I wasn’t going to get anywhere with the hot furniture maker, anywhere further than coffee dates, anyway. It was an impasse I knew we couldn’t overcome. We parted that day with a long hug, and he turned down the street resignedly. I honestly didn’t know when – or whether, I’d see him again. I got in my usual gym session and got back home to get on a Zoom call with my poz brethren about Folsom St Fair – we made some final arrangements about the profile cards we’d be handing out, and the plan was in place. A week later, flying down to SFO, I was abuzz with anticipation about the booth at the Fair and the special surprise we had for the lucky chasers. In my mind, I had turned the page on Tom, so although I was sad about not being with him, I was eager and ready to bring some more guys into the wonderful world of the poz brotherhood. Setting up the booth was easy – our banner ‘Join The Ten,’ with a large reflective biohazard symbol shined in the sun. Eric, Keith, Sir Mack and I stripped off our shirts to display the tats signifying us as mass pozzinators. As the temperature heated up, we lost our leather shorts and stood at our booth proudly displaying our pierced pozzing weapons for all to admire. A few guys who stopped at our booth walked away in disgust, shaking their heads as they went, but many, many more were intrigued and we handed out our profile cards which displayed our stats like baseball cards: Last known Viral Load, how many pozzed, tattoos, etc…This brought more interest and we made a few more appointments for later for them to join the club. Interest was high…an hour in, Caleb, the 19-year old Berkeley student I pozzed along with his twin brother, strolled by and we reconnected with a loud recharge pozfuck right in the street against a chain-link fence, my poz cock unleashed the first of many toxic loads into the twink’s poz hole. Passers-by watched and stroked their cocks and recorded the Caleb’s recharge for social media, hashtag #TheTen☣️ Other guys passed by all afternoon, either taking one of our cards or proudly showing off their own poz tats, a sea of biohazard symbols, + signs, blood droplets, scorpions, and a few simply with the words POZ or HIV or AIDS emblazoned across their skin. One hot guy had his cock tattoed with a rattlesnake spewing venom, and I took the opportunity to go back to my Caleb-fucking spot against the fence and bent over to take his poison snake up my infected hole, his weapon spraying 8 or 9 shots of pure HIV into my hole. At last, the Fair was winding down. We made a few more appointments for the conversion treatment for later, and we packed up and made our way over to the notorious Ringgold Alley, where the tent was set up in the parking lot of a warehouse owned by somebody Eric has pozzed years earlier. As we walked up, we spied our special guest, filmmaker Todd Verow, himself a bug-chaser, setting up his video equipment. All the invitees who consented to be filmed would get their poz upgrades recorded so they could look back on the proud moment when HIV entered their bodies and changed their lives! Todd is a hot fucker himself and of course, we were gonna take the opportunity to bring him into the brotherhood as well, once the filming was done. The tent was divided into 2 sections, the first of which was lined up with mattresses, fuck benches and a sling, and the second had three portable medical exam tables arrayed one by one. I walked in to see the Idealistic Young Doctor there, wearing an open lab coat and nothing else but a fat metal cockring. He was readying alcohol pads and syringes for his part of the process. On the right side, I saw my brother mass infectors Eric, Keith and Sir Mack hard and stroking their cocks, each of them pierced, engorged and ready to breed. Between them, over 200 chasers had been infected with their strains of HIV and those 200+ men spread their seed all over the world, infecting thousands more. I took my place alongside them, greeting each with a deep kiss and a tug on their cocks, appreciating what they had all done for me and how together we had some small part in the burgeoning normalization, appreciation and enjoyment of HIV in gay circles. At the precise time of 5:00pm, our first appointment arrived. “Welcome,” Doctor Matthew announced. “Are you Blake?” Blake, a young twink of about 22, nodded and the Doctor ran through the choices: First, you get to decide which of these 4 hot poz men will breed you – they’re all super toxic. Then, once he has deposited his load in your hole, we’ll complete the process with some blood fresh from him to you. Here, sign this form and then pick your pozzer.” Blake studied each of our profile cards which we handed out at the Fair, while Todd readied his camera to zoom in on the guy’s neg hole; finally Blake selected Sir Mack as his pozfather, leaning over the fuckbench. Mack, the most prolific pozzer among us (as well as the most-toxic), then opened the festivities with a brushing of Blake’s neg hole, preparing it for the life-changing serum he would infect the guy with. This was followed by a brutal fucking from Sir as he drilled his fat toxic cock deep into the young guy’s guts. Blake winced and yelped at the anal invasion, but Mack just drove it in harder, covered the kid’s mouth and held his head down into the fuckbench. Pretty soon, our next appointments filtered in, staggering every 10 minutes. I got the 2nd customer, Davis, a 30-ish Asian dude with barely a hair on his body, except for dark circles of fuzz around his neg hole. I was pre-cumming already and lubed up my unmedicated pole with the precum that was swimming with my HIV, readying the guy’s hole with a quick brushing. A few brushes in his pussy completed, I drove my weapon deep into his fuckchute, precumming all the way and in no time I was balls-deep in the guy, bringing him roughly into the poz brotherhood – well, if my toxic load didn’t do it, the blood slam coming up surely would. Just the thought of it got my cock harder and with urgency and precision, sprayed 10 shots of venomous seeds into the dude. I wasted no time in dragging him over to Doctor Matthew, who was just finishing up with Blake, a syringe of Sir Mack’s blood freshly drawn from the infected Master and shot into the arm of the young lad Blake, completing his conversion and marking him as a poz breeder. Tears of gratitude streamed down Blake’s pretty little face, for he knew now his goal was achieved, and quest was completed. Filmmaker Todd handed him a video card of the conversion and off Blake went to spread the wealth. Matthew moved along to me, I reclined against the exam table while my victim Davis lay on it, wiped out from the brutal fucking he received from me, my unmedicated load seeping into him and I watched Doctor withdraw a syringe of my blood from my arm and inject it into Davis who trembled and whimpered a bit, but took the conversion well. I could see Eric and Keith deep inside the next customers, Sir Mack, having pozzed Blake now, moved over to the waiting area but was soon called over to breed the next guy. And so it went on and on, one or more of us continuously breeding the chasers with our poz loads and then our poz blood. Doctor Matthew stroking his cock all the time he was administering the treatment to the chasers, a couple of times, the doctor’s own poz load shooting into the face and mouth of the guy as he inserted the needle with the poz blood. Filmmaker Todd, meanwhile had filmed each conversion – all the guys so far consented to the filming – and by the 3rd hot poz breeding, Todd had one hand on his camera and the other on his hard thick negative cock. Todd knew he’d be upgraded to poz tonight but first we had 20 more appointments lined up. Now, all of us poz brethren are ever-hard multi-cumming machines, but to make sure we stay that way during the long session, each of us took a Trimix shot from Doctor Matthew before we had begun. Our cocks were so hard and rigid, even after cumming and pozzing multiple guys, I was hoping for some walk-ins who maybe heard what was going down in the blue tent on Ringgold Alley. Pretty soon, the pozzing extravaganza was almost over, it was a blur of neg holes getting fucked and inseminated and syringes of red poz elixir taken from us and injected into willing bugchasers. And even though my cock, by Todd’s count, had shot 9 loads, it remained rockhard and leaking, waiting for the next. Finally, the “next” was Todd himself, who assumed position on the mattress, riding Eric whose fat poz pole pistoned up and down into Todd’s beautiful neg ass. He leaned forward over Eric, making the classic opening for a double-fuck. I wasted no time, beating out Sir and Keith into the prime double penetration position and my own stiff infected cock drilled into Todd’s quivering asshole, alongside Eric’s and we soon had our alternating strokes, deep into the filmmaker’s cunt. I could feel Eric’s cock against mine, his 0g PA clanking against mine. Gradually, Eric began to shake and shudder and with a loud explosion, he shot huge streams of his full-blown AIDS deep into Todd’s gaping hole. I knew I was right behind him and without any delay, my own toxic cock impregnated him as well. Doctor Matthew, watching this hot scene, rushed over with 2 syringes. “Stay as you are, guys,” he commanded, and he quickly drew another syringe of Eric’s venomous blood and one of mine, and with our cocks still hard and leaking up inside the filmmaker, injected Todd with them both at the same time. Keith, videotaping this event for Todd, proclaimed “Welcome to the Class of 2025!” “You’ll never know for sure who your Poz Daddy is, Todd,” I whispered into his ear, giving him a little more push inside him with my bugged-up cock. Eric’s AIDS-pole joined me in driving deeper into the guy’s ass. We know we have just pozzed Todd, fulfilling his wish after years or trying to poz up. He is one of us now! Now, I am truly wiped out, and after our joint infection of filmmaker Todd, we dismount and Eric and I collapse into each other’s arms. Todd, not satisfied, being the cumwhore that he is, brings over Sir Mack and Keith and they proceed to double-fuck and breed him as well, also taking syringes of their blood from Doctor Matthew as well. He is good and truly pozzed now! We are just about to close up shop, pridefully recalling the over 25 guys we have pozzed here with our loads and our blood, laughing at the sheer depravity of it all, when, with my back turned, I hear a familiar voice. “Sorry, my plane was delayed. Am I too late?” It’s Tom. MY Tom. “There’s only one guy I want it from, if that’s OK,” he says, walking over to me. He’s got on leather chaps and his ass, which to this point, I’ve never seen before, is round and beautiful and just waiting for plundering. “What are you doing here,? I ask him, stunned to see him. “You sure about this,” drawing him in for a deep tongue kiss. “Totally,” he whispers, “and you have to do it for me. I don’t want to be without you in my life, and I want to share it all with you, including your strain.” “OK, but let’s skip the blood slam this time,” suddenly switching into romantic mode, “I’m super toxic and my loads will be enough.” After a deep loving fuck, I blew my load up Tom’s hole, feeling full and truly wiped out. Eric, Mack, Keith, Matthew and Todd all broke into a round of applause. As I kept my leaking poz cock deep inside his guts, we kissed deeply and I knew then my purpose was to spend my life with him, sharing what was now “our” strain, and laughing to myself at the irony of it all; for although I had spent so many years pozzing up chasers, it was a non-chaser who ended up capturing me.

i aim to please, my friend...

**This is a work of fantasy and fiction. Any similarity to anyone living or dead is purely coincidental. Nothing in this work should be construed as medical advice in any way** THE TEN – A Continuation (or Chapter XV, if you like) I never expected to fall in love with him…as I will explain, he wanted the relationship, but he didn’t want to be pozzed. It was 2 years after I moved from LA to Seattle, I had continued my pozzing adventures in the great Pacific Northwest. One of the main reasons for leaving LA was there almost seemed like there was nobody left to infect with HIV. Oh, new guys were always moving to LA, maybe to make it as an actor, maybe to escape from moralizing family members, or maybe just for the weather. But between widespread PrEP usage, the pool of available neg holes to knock up was becoming ever smaller. And when you factor in my poz buddies, Eric, Keith, Diego, Francisco and the other members of “The Ten” club, competition to claim a unmedicated neg chaser was fierce. Between us all in “The Ten,” we had successfully pozzed hundreds of guys, including dozens of flight attendants -- literally spreading our HIV strains around the world – but new conquests, as measured by the group text we would all send after another chaser got their upgrade, were happening fewer and fewer times. As for my own successful pozzings, the tattooed area across my abs now boasted an arc of 6 dark X’s, meaning I had 60 known pozzings under my belt – and probably dozens more unknown ones who were face down/ass up in a sex club, or just a neg pussy against the glory hole opening – “DON’T ASK, DON’T TELL!” Augmenting the row of XXXXXX spread across my midsection were 2 biohaz symbols, one above the row of Xs and one on my upper arm, a bright red teardrop of blood in the center of both biohaz symbols. And then there was the inked scorpion with the word “POZ” in the center of its body splayed across my chest that my friend and tattoo artist extraordinaire Eric emblazoned for me, and which got us so horned up, we recharged each other right on his tattoo chair. He even finished up the scorpion tat while his fat toxic AIDS-cock was still inside me after depositing a fresh load of virus into my poz cumhole. But eventually, there just wasn’t the available stock of neg chasers out there anymore, and the ones that once flew into LA for pozzing now could get it closer to their homes, as “The Ten” chapters sprung up, quite organically, in New York, Chicago, Toronto, Boston, Miami and Palm Springs. I had some of the ‘blame” for the Chicago branch being so prolific as my poz son Benny proceeded to infect his whole leather group, and they in turn distributed the gift across the Midwest. Suddenly, POZ was the thing to shoot for in certain gay/bi circles – a badge of sexual hedonistic honor. Eric told me he was training tattoo artists across the country in all kinds of biohazard and scorpion designs, and a big request was simply the words “POZ,” “TOXIC,” “INFECTED,” or “HIV” to get inked across chasers’ bodies when they got the inevitable upgrade to HIV status. So after my wildly successful, and I guess if you think about it – TOO successful pozzing career, I relocated with my job up to Seattle, a city I had visited a few times over the years but to my knowledge, was not home to anyone I had upgraded with my demon seed. My own seed remained unmedicated and my overall health remained good, despite the moderate viral HIV load. My last in-person visit with the idealistic Young Doctor in LA showed slow but steady progress of the virus and he told me I might be crossing over to official AIDS status within a year or so, and to think about medicating. Or maybe not, it was impossible to know for certain. What was for certain was I wouldn’t be inhibiting my strain with meds, at least not for a while yet… So, 2 years later I was still seeing via telehealth the Young Doctor, who himself had transitioned from a condom and meds advocate into a poz hungry cumwhore after a certain mass conversion party in Lake Tahoe. And my lab work that I had done every 3 months or so at his direction still made its way back to him to interpret, and even now, 2 years after he said I was fucking and breeding my way into AIDS-territory, I was still officially just “HIV Positive.” I was having too much fun breeding holes with my toxic seed, and when after 18 months in Seattle, I got my 6th X tattooed across my stomach, signifying 60 pozzings, I resolved not to slow down…not yet, anyway. Poz convert #60 happened much the same way a lot of them occur…Josh from Alaska read my profiles on BZ and Curious Chaser, slid into my DMs and a few weeks later, and following a quick brushing of his neg pussy, my lubed-up poz weapon was sliding into his untainted hole, forever changing his DNA, and changing him into a poz cumwhore. He told me that where he works on the pipeline, not a lot of guys are openly gay or bi, and even if they are, not a lot of them are on PrEP…plenty of opportunities for him to spread the seed to the Last Frontier among his burly oil worker buds. I welcomed Josh to my place with a hug…I could feel his body trembling in my embrace. He whispered softly to me “I need to do this…but I’m scared.” Reassuring him, I whispered back ‘We’ll go at your pace…but remember why you flew down here, remember why you need this,” followed by my grinding my jeans-covered poz weapon against him. We chatted for awhile…he’s “mostly gay,” but fucks women sometimes…there were a couple of pregnancy scares with them and he was greatly relieved when they turned up not pregnant. He’s an oil pipeline worker, which isn’t as burly or hard-working as it sounds – mostly sitting at a screen and watching product flow. But sometimes there’s a problem or something out in the field that requires manual intervention and Josh and a few buddies head out to repair the issue, usually staying at the field camps set up along the length of the line. He tells me once the issue is resolved, there’s not a lot to do in camp until the van arrives in a day or two to take them back. So, they naturally get up to what men get up to…he’s fucked all of his work buddies over the years and they’ve fucked and bred him, even the ones with wives and kids waiting at home. “We’re not allowed to drink on the job, so we find ways to entertain ourselves,” he shrugs, laughing and swigging his beer. It’s the first time he’s relaxed enough this evening to laugh. He continues, “I found myself fantasizing about getting poz, I resisted for a long time, but once it has you, it can’t be denied.” I nod in knowing agreement. Once he’s relaxed and laughing a bit, I lead him upstairs and offer my standard disclaimer that he can turn around right now and go. They never do…Getting him on the bed, and before he can change his mind, I begin my process with the brand new toothbrush I have waiting for him. Next comes my hard pre-cumming pierced poz missile. This isn’t a time to be gentle with it and I drill it deep into his guts, not stopping as he yelps and twists, until it’s balls-deep inside him, my free-flowing viral precum already leading the way. I remind him this is why he is here. “Feel that poz cock deep in you, man? It’s pozzing you up already!” I fuck him deeply and very roughly for about 15 minutes with my poz pole, withdrawing a couple of times to look at the small drops of bright red blood on my cock, I plunge it back into him and unload nine or ten shots of pure HIV-seed into the guy’s hole. I know I’ve just brought him into the Brotherhood, but of course, I follow standard pozzing protocol, plugging his mancunt and raising his hips on a pillow to let gravity assist. I fucked him again a further two times that night, always shooting copious loads of unmedicated toxic cum into the guy – as usual with The Ten members, once you become a mass poz breeder you shoot bigger HIV-loads, and the more your cock rebounds super quickly, ready for another unmedicated, toxic insemination! On the 3rd rough fuck of that evening, we even managed to break the bed, a couple of slats underneath the mattress splintering, with a loud cracking sound! In the morning, while he was still half-asleep, I turned him over and thrust my cock up his sore hole again, sealing the deal with another huge HIV-load in the guy’s guts. Josh flew back to Anchorage that morning, his hole wet from my seed, my strain already at work on his system. He pledged to send me a pic of the home test in a few weeks’ time, and I know from past experience what the result will be: 2 bright red lines meaning sweet HIV. When 3 weeks later the beautiful picture came from him, I quickly snapped a pic of his positive test next to my hard cock and posted it on my media. My 60th pozzing filled me with such pride at the accomplishment! As for the bed -- Josh, not to mention the steady stream of Northwest chasers had been in and out of it and the old bed had served me good, but it was time to upgrade my pozzing bed with something new. And that’s what found me later that day in this high-end, custom-made furniture store a short walk from the main tourist area of Pike St. I had walked past the store windows several times, looking at the sofa and chairs and another featuring a beautiful Shaker-style bed. From the window, there was just enough of a view into the back area where craftsmen would work on their furniture designs. That’s where I saw him, through the window, as people milled back and forth in front of the doorway, I craned my neck to see him better, leaning over one of his custom creations, his jeans shaping his ass beautifully. I didn’t believe in fate or whatever you want to call it, but seeing him there, even just viewing him from outside looking in, I had the same electric feeling in my loins that I get whenever I know I’ve just pozzed a guy, that indescribable rush of energy as my viral cum shoots from my rigid cock deep into a man’s hole, transmogrifying him and his existence forever. I entered the store, and lingered around the bed that I wanted, telling the saleswoman who first approached that I was just looking. She turned and walked away and I went back to looking at the hot young assistant on the phone. Finally, he finished the call and turned in my direction. With the saleswoman now helping someone else, I waved at the cute guy and he left the central desk and made his way over to me. He was a bit taller and leaner than me, probably around 6’2,” with medium-brown hair a bit of which fell in front of his eyes as he walked, brushing it back behind his ears which he probably has to do 100 times a day. “Hi, sir, I’m Tom…what can I show you today?” he introduced himself, outstretching his hand to mine. As I shook his hand, a jolt of electricity ran through my body – even more than the jolt I felt the previous evening impregnating Josh with my HIV. And just like that, Tom the furniture guy “had” me. “I think I’m gonna buy this bed,” I told him, pointing at the sturdy frame “as long as it is strong and put together well. I don’t need a flimsy one.” I smiled devilishly at him, waiting for him to take the bait. But he just said “It’s made by a local craftsman, and very well built. I can show you his catalogue and you can see his process if you like. I help him out in his studio from time to time.” He didn’t return my smile, just a friendly yet businesslike approach. Still, he “had” me, and a few minutes later, I was out the door, having bought a new bed and table set. “Will you be the one to deliver it?” I asked him, hoping he would take the hint, but again he stayed professional and we arranged for their delivery team to bring the new purchases in 3 weeks’ time. 3 weeks – just enough time for the fuck flu to hit a chaser after I’ve brought them into the poz brotherhood! When finally after three weeks, the call came that it was to be delivered, Tom’s voice was on the other end of the phone “Hello, Sir, we’ve got your bed ready to be delivered, but I thought you’d also be interested in some other pieces our craftsman had made, if you’d like to meet me after work at his woodshop, I can walk you through it all.” Needing no further invitation to see this hot guy, I quickly hopped on the light rail and made my way over to the address of the studio, which was in a run-down part of the city south of Downtown. I knocked on the heavy steel door and Tom opened up and appeared there, his messy brown hair half in his face, his arms straining against the tight T-shirt and his jeans cupping his ass. “Hey, Sir,” glad you could make it, welcome to my studio,” he said. “Your studio? You’re the craftsman who makes this beautiful furniture?” “Yeah,” he said brushing his hair back, and shaking sawdust from his hand, “at the store, I am just a sales rep, but here,” he remarked, turning around to the expanse of wood furniture, “this is my baby.” He leaned in a bit to me, “and I thought you might like a private tour,” brushing his hand against my arm, leaning further in for a kiss. “Unless I got the wrong idea…” “Oh hell no, man, you got the right idea – I’ve been thinking of you ever since I came into the store,” I replied. With that he reached for my shirt, unbuttoning the buttons down the front. Then, as he fully opened my shirt, he eyed the scorpion tat, the biohaz symbol with the blood-red teardrop, and the line of 6 X’s across my furry midsection. He stopped – a brief look of concern across his face. Looking at my tats marking me as a POZ predator, his demeanor changed instantly, from excitement to alarm. He stepped back. “OK, sir, we’ll have your furniture delivered by 10am tomorrow morning, thanks for visiting.” And he walked away and sat at his desk and busied himself with some paperwork. I took the hint…it’s a lot for someone to grasp. Before I pozzed up, I felt much the same way…even though it excited me, the fear outweighed the fantasy. I thanked him, and made my way home. As I came through the door, my phone chimed. It was him. “Sorry to cut you off there…maybe we should talk about it?” TO BE CONTINUED

Hey there, i'm back on this site now. And I have a surprise new installment of 'The Ten." Will be posted soon! Hope you like it

Fantastic!

Exactly. and anyone should just be able to walk up and mount the hole, no questions asked !

Indeed...anyone in that sex party or bathhouse situation should know what to do to stay neg (PrEP), and act accordingly to protect themselves...so IMO no need to say anything about status. In my experience, I haven't seen anyone use a condom at a bathhouse in years and years, and that's how it should be! (Despite there being bowls of them laid out for people).

you're doing great, keep it up!

great twist !